


Shanghai Mysterioso

by laughingacademy



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Scene, Orientalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 23:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingacademy/pseuds/laughingacademy
Summary: A night in the Hotel Mayfair.





	Shanghai Mysterioso

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laughingpineapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingpineapple/gifts).



> The prompt read in part, "Character dossiers that involve Tammy more directly. TSHOTP themes being used front and center. Owls, figurative and otherwise. Tammy Fashion™. Tammy Freeform Infodump™. The risks of staring into the void for too long. Gentle illusions. The moon. Static buzzing. Any title from the s3 ethereal whooshing compilation (Twin Peaks Anthology Resource vol.1) used as a prompt, actually."
> 
> The story wound up being more Diane-POV, but I did manage to cover several points from the above.

Diane stood barefoot in the center of her single-occupancy hotel room in glamorous downtown Buckhorn, South Dakota, wiggling her toes against the beige carpet. To her left was a window overlooking the street. She’d drawn the sheer white privacy curtain but left the heavy blackout drapes (which were a drab shade of green probably called “desert sage” or something along those lines) pulled back. To her right was the door to the hallway, with a fire evacuation map mounted below the peephole. There was a closet to the left of the door, containing an ironing board and steam iron, a hair dryer, extra towels, and Diane’s leopard print jacket. The bathroom was opposite the closet, with a toilet, sink, and shower (no bathtub — disappointing). Earlier, right after they’d checked in, she’d handwashed the previous day’s panties and hung them on the towel rack to dry. Her bras would be okay for a few more days if she kept alternating them. If this trip lasted longer than a week, she’d have to look into getting some of her other things dry cleaned.

Behind her was a queen-size bed with its headboard centered between the bathroom and the outside wall. The sheets and pillowcases were white, while the comforter was the same green as the drapes. The bed was flanked by small square wooden tables, both bearing lamps. The one closer to the bathroom had a clock radio; the other supported a telephone and a TV remote. The television was a wall-mounted flatscreen facing the bed. Below the TV was a wood veneer credenza with a built-in mini fridge, currently empty. Between that and the closet was a luggage rack, upon which Diane had put her suitcase. The space between the credenza and the outside wall was filled by a desk with outlets and ports for a computer she didn’t have. She’d plugged in her cellphone to recharge. 

The desk was on the right side of the window. To the left of the window, in the corner between the bed and the outside wall, was a standing lamp, a maroon upholstered chair, and another small table. On this table were a single-cup coffee maker, a stack of paper cups individually wrapped in plastic, and a lidded box containing tea bags and coffee pods. 

Diane turned on the floor lamp and pulled the drapes closed. She paused, cocked her head, and switched on the nearer of the bedside lights before turning off the standing lamp. Frowning now, she circled the bed and turned on the second table lamp before deactivating its mate. Finally, she turned off that light, then groped her way along the wall to the open bathroom door. Reaching in, she hit the switch for the fixture in the ceiling. Her shadow stretched across the carpet towards the window, like it was trying to escape.

A few seconds ticked by.

“Fuck this,” Diane said. She stepped into her shoes, put her phone in her purse, turned off the bathroom light, and headed downstairs to the hotel bar.

She hadn’t expected to find Tammy Preston perched on one of the barstools. The agent was in the same cream blouse, dark blue pencil skirt and high heels that she’d worn to the morgue and the jail, but she’d shed her jacket and badge and tied back her wine-red hair. She was contemplating a tall bottle shaped like a bamboo stem, ringed in black at the joints. Next to it was a rocks glass containing ice and a measure of cloudy pale gold liquid.

Diane slid onto the stool at Tammy’s left. “Agent Preston. So you don’t smoke, but you do drink.”

“On occasion.”

“What’s the occasion tonight?” 

Tammy sighed. “I’ve read all the files we brought and the transcript of my interview with William Hastings front to back and back to front. If there’s anything more to be gleaned from them, I’m not seeing it. Gordon and Albert have both packed it in for the night. I decided I wanted a drink to unwind before I did the same.” She picked up her glass and took a sip.

Diane gestured at the ersatz bamboo. “May I?” 

Tammy used her free hand to slide the bottle down the bar. Diane turned it so she could read the label. “‘Domaine de Canton, French Ginger Liqueur.’ Never had it. How is it?”

“Tasty. Sweet, with a bite. I’m glad I tried it.”

“Not your usual?”

Tammy shook her head, “I generally stick to beer or wine. But once in a while, when I’m in an unfamiliar place, I’ll pick out the most interesting looking bottle.”

Diane unscrewed the cap and sniffed. “Whew, that’s pungent.”

A bartender approached, eyebrows raised. “Can I get you anything, ma’am?”

“Hi,” Diane said, handing the liqueur bottle to him. “Do you know how to make an Oriental?”

He squinted into the middle distance for a second, then rattled off, “Whiskey, sweet vermouth, triple sec, lime juice, cherry to garnish.”

“Very good. I would have also accepted Cointreau or Grand Mariner in place of triple sec.” 

“Shall I make you one?”

“I was thinking you could make one for Tammy here.” She turned to the other woman. “Another drink? Looks like you’re nearly done with that.”

Tammy hesitated, then shrugged. “Sure.” 

“And I’ll have a double vodka on the rocks. Gvori, if you’ve got it.” 

“Coming right up.”

“Thank you.”

Diane spent a few seconds watching the bartender work before facing Tammy again and asking, “Hey, how are the lights in your room?”

The younger woman blinked. “Um. Normal? Sufficient. Why?”

“I think there’s something wrong with the way mine are wired up. There’s this noise, like a buzz or a hum, right on the edge of my hearing when I turn any of them on.”

Tammy tilted her head to one side, considering. “We could ask the management to move you to another room.”

“Not now. I can put up with it for one night. Maybe it’s a transient thing. If we stay longer, then we’ll see.”

“Here you go,” the bartender said, placing their drinks between them and whisking away Tammy’s empty. Both women murmured thanks. 

“Cheers,” Diane said.

“Cheers,” Tammy echoed, and clinked her glass against Diane’s. “May I ask you something?”

“Okay,” Diane replied, then took a swig, relishing the burn of the vodka. 

“What is that lipstick you’re wearing? It’s a great color.”

“It’s custom. I get it made at a little shop downtown. Can I ask you something?”

Tammy nodded.

“Did your parents actually name you ‘Tammy’?”

“It’s ‘Tamara’ on all my I.D., but no one has ever called me that. I tried going by ‘Mara’ for a while in high school but it didn’t take.”

“You introduced yourself to Hastings as ‘Tammy.’”

“I thought a touch of informality would get better results.”

“Mm. You’re good at the active listening thing. Encouraging, but not leading.”

“He wanted to talk.” After they’d both had another sip, Tammy added, “He reminded me of me, a little.”

Diane didn’t choke, but it was a near thing. “How?”

“Back in grade school, I went through a phase where I was really into the paranormal. Checked out every Charles Berlitz book the library had, on Atlantis, the Bermuda Triangle, the Philadelphia Experiment, Roswell...”

Diane pointed. “You would’ve read Hastings’s blog.”

“If I’d found it at the right time? Absolutely.” Tammy leaned in. “You know, a lot of the Berlitz books are garbage — he was what you might call a proponent of the Liberty Valance school of journalism.”

“‘Print the legend.’”

“And to hell with the facts. Whatever else Hastings is, I think he’s a real…” Tammy looked up at the hanging wine glass rack and down into her cocktail before concluding, “...seeker of truth.”

“He found something," Diane conceded. "And it fucked his life completely.”

They finished their drinks.

“Ladies? Last call.”

Diane exhaled. “I think I’m done.”

Tammy dropped a few bills on the bar, waving off the older woman when she opened her purse. The redhead wobbled slightly after she slid off the stool.

“Lightweight,” said Diane, preceding her into the lobby.

“It’s these heels. I’ve been wearing them all day.” 

They had an uncomfortably long wait for the elevator. Diane started humming.

“Is that David Bowie?” Tamara asked, just as the chime sounded.

“Yeah.”

“I saw him on tour with the Nine Inch Nails.”

Diane hit the button for their floor. “Lucky.”

Back in her room, taking off her makeup, she crooned at the blonde in the mirror, _“My little china girl, you shouldn't mess with me, I'll ruin everything you are…”_

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set during part 10 of season three, after Gordon Cole’s vision of Laura Palmer and the briefings by Albert Rosenfield and Tammy Preston about Diane's text messages and Cooper’s connection to the glass box in New York City. 
> 
> David Lynch did in fact create a custom shade of lipstick for Laura Dern to wear as Diane Evans.
> 
> Charles Berlitz, grandson of Berlitz Language Schools founder Maximilian, wrote thirteen books on anomalous phenomena between 1969 and 1995. Some have criticized his works on the paranormal for inaccuracy, embellishment, and unfounded speculation.
> 
>  _The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance_ , a 1962 western starring John Wayne and Jimmy Stewart, contains the famous line, “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” [ **ETA:** In the biography _Room to Dream_ , David Lynch's younger brother, John, states, “If he went to a movie I hadn't seen, he'd come home and tell me about it in detail ... I remember one he particularly loved called _The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance_ that he went on and on about,” which I did not recall when I wrote this story, so that was either a handy subconscious memory or a nice bit of serendipity.]
> 
> David Bowie and Nine Inch Nails co-headlined the Outside/Dissonance Tour in the U.S. in September-October 1995, and both contributed material to the soundtrack for the 1997 David Lynch film _Lost Highway_. Bowie portrays Phillip Jeffries in 1992’s _Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me_. “The” Nine Inch Nails appear in part 8 of season three, performing “She’s Gone Away” at the Roadhouse. Diane’s song is “China Girl.”


End file.
